Ann Martin: Claudia And The Genius On Elm St.

Those things were going to be the subjects of my next art project! I could see it so clearly — a series of pop art pieces, "Junk Food Fantasy," by Claudia Kishi. I could paint a Twinkie in a wrapper, then a Twinkie unwrapped. A Yankee Doodle, and then a Yankee Doodle with a bite in it. All in realistic detail with vivid colors.

The idea was brilliant (not to mention that

it would give me an excuse to buy even more junk food). I couldn't wait to get started. I turned off the show before it was over and ran upstairs to my room.

I began a few preliminary sketches, but two things happened. One, I got hungry and ate the subject of my fifth sketch, a Chunky bar. Two, I realized it was getting close to five-thirty. And five-thirty on a Friday meant just one thing — a BSC meeting.

I began to clean up my room. I was dying to tell my friends about my great new idea.

Chapter 2.

How does light play off the curves of a Fritos corn chip?

How do you create detail in a white Yankee Doodle center?

Which is more interesting, the many textures of a Snickers bar or the simplicity of a Three Musketeers bar?

These were the incredibly important questions in my head as I cleaned up. That's the thing about art. You get obsessed about the weirdest details. How should the object be lit — from behind, from above, from the right, or from the left? Should your green have more blue in it or more yellow? Should your whites be pure or tinted toward gray — or toward brown? How big should the subject be? What should be in the background?

I find stuff like that fascinating. A lot of people would find it more interesting to talk about brussels sprouts.

I was so deep in thought I didn't even hear Kristy Thomas walk into my room around five-fifteen. (Kristy's the BSC president.) "Hey, Claud," she said.

"Oh! Hi," I answered.

I must have looked like I was in another world, because Kristy stopped and stared at me. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I was about to ask her what she thought about the Snickers-Three Musketeers issue, but I caught myself. She'd probably think I was out of my mind. Instead I said, "Just thinking about a new art project."

Kristy's eyes lit up. She's always interested in new ideas and challenges. "Really? What?"

"Well . . . I'm going to work on a series of realistic junk-food portraits. Sort of like Andy Warhol."

You should have seen Kristy's face. It went totally blank. "Uh-huh," she said, looking around the room. "Great."

Whoops. It's not that Kristy is a Philistine (that's a word Janine taught me — it means "one who is ignorant of artistic things"). She always has smart things to say about my work. It's just that her idea of a good idea is much more . . . practical. Kristy's the type of person who will take an impossible problem and figure out how to solve it. Here's an example: Kristy's younger brothers and sister wanted to

play on a softball team, but they weren't ready for Little League. So what did Kristy do? She formed a team by herself, called Kristy's Krushers.

From the way Kristy dresses, you'd think she was on her way to a softball game every day. She always looks good, just very casual — jeans, a T-shirt or turtleneck, and running shoes. Her face is friendly, with pretty brown eyes and long brown hair. She's on the short side and very athletic.

Kristy is the perfect club president. She has the loudest voice (which helps in a group of talkers like us). She's not afraid to say what's on her mind, and she'll boss people around if she has to. Some people are bothered by her bluntness, but we all accept it. She's just . . . Kristy.

I should know. We've been friends since we were in diapers. The Thomases used to live across the street from me. Back in the old days, the Thomas family was pretty ordinary. It consisted of Kristy, her mom and dad, and her two older brothers, Sam and Charlie. Then, when Kristy was about six, Mr. Thomas just walked out on them. Why? No one knows for sure, but I think it was a rotten thing to do. Kristy's younger brother, David Michael, had just been born, and all of a sudden Mrs. Thomas had to support four kids. Somehow

she managed to juggle a job, childcare, shopping, you name it (I guess that's where Kristy gets her organizational skills).

Everything changed for Kristy's family not long ago. Mrs. Thomas met this millionaire named Watson Brewer. They fell madly in love and got married, and the Thomases ended up moving into a huge mansion. And let me tell you, that house needs to be huge. Watson is the divorced father of two kids, Karen and Andrew, who spend every other weekend and some vacations and holidays at the house. Then there's Emily Michelle, an adorable two-and-a-half-year-old Vietnamese girl whom Watson and Kristy's mother recently adopted. Then there's Nannie, Kristy's grandmother on her mom's side, who now lives there and helps take care of Emily Michelle. And then there are Boo-Boo and Shannon, a cat and a dog.

Needless to say, her house is a pretty wild place. It's also on the other side of town, but of course Kristy's worked that out, too. Her brother Charlie drives her back here for BSC meetings.

And she's always the first one to arrive.

Take that Friday after the TV show. Ten minutes before anyone else came, there was Kristy, busily helping me clean up. Did I mind? No way.

Before long, Dawn and Mary Anne showed up, then Mallory and Jessi. Stacey arrived last, at 5:28.

That's the whole club. They are my closest friends in the world, and they're all so different. Let me tell you about them.

My best friend in the BSC (and in life) is Stacey McGill. We have a lot in common, starting with our sense of style. I'd say we are both sophisticated, but that sounds stuck-up (oh well, I said it anyway). Stacey is clothes-conscious like me, but in a more urban way — very chic and glamorous. Stacey is blonde and gorgeous, and she's from New York City. For a while she moved back to New York when her father's company transferred him there. Whoa, did I miss her! But then her parents divorced, and Stacey decided to return to Sto-neybrook with her mother. I was thrilled she came back, but sad about her parents splitting up. Stacey's still close with both of them. She visits her dad pretty often.

Here's the main difference between Stacey and me. If you asked us both a math question, I'd probably make you repeat it, then sit there trying to write it all out, then start doodling. Stacey would figure it out in her head. When it comes to math, I think she's in Janine's league.

Oh, one other thing we don't have in com-

mon. Stacey doesn't eat sweets. It's not because she doesn't like them, it's because she has diabetes. That means she has to be careful about sugar. If she eats too much (or too little), she can get really sick. There's a reason for it, something about not having a certain chemical in her bloodstream. (One of these days I'll understand it, but biology is not my strong point.) Every day she has to give herself injections of something called insulin. I'm glad I don't have to watch. I'd probably faint.

And Mary Anne Spier would probably plop right down next to me. She is Ms. Sensitive. Forget about inviting her over to watch a sad movie. You'll run out of Kleenex. I found that out one day when we saw a tape of E.T. together. You know the scene where the kids are smuggling E.T. away on their bikes, and they take off into the air? That scene makes me stand up and cheer. But Mary Anne bursts into tears. When I asked her why, she said, "I'm so ... happy for them!"

As you can probably tell, Mary Anne is a very caring person and a great friend. She's shy, too, and a little conservative, but she's getting more and more stylish. That afternoon, for example, she wore a loose-fitting open shirt over a teal turtleneck with off-white chinos and white sneakers.